A Will As Strong
by K.Maestrale
Summary: Cross-posted from my AO3 account, K Maestrale. Mozenrath has grown tired of the isolation of the citadel. What begins as a simple game to pass the time quickly descends into a torrid affair that neither party had expected.
1. The Game's Afoot

He had lived without the sun's rays kissing his face for so many moons that his skin and fleshless hand were nearly the same shade of chalky white. Life in the Land of the Black Sands had taken that joy from him, along with his physical fitness and what kindness might have still lived in his heart. The price one must pay for power is steep, but the intoxication power provided nearly outweighed the costs. Nearly. In the place of meaningful relationships he was left with the numbing loneliness of being surrounded by mute reanimated corpses. He may as well have tried talking to the air if he wanted some intelligent conversation. Yes, Mozenrath had the company of his familiar, Xerxes, but there's only so much that an eel has to offer intellectually. More often than not he chose to enjoy the silence.

Much to his dismay, no matter how he ached to be some otherworldly creature, he was still human. His sanity was already slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. All the magic in the world couldn't relieve his need for human companionship to stave off the madness; at the rate his mind was deteriorating, he would need to find someone to pass the idle hours with quickly. But the terrible truth of it all was that a child lost in the desert had a better chance of finding an oasis than he did of finding a willing companion to reside with him in his citadel. With his short temper and unsavory reputation, it was no surprise that his entire dominion was filled with the undead rather than warm bodies to entertain. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to anyone aside from that mangy street rat and the spoiled princess of Agrabah. Infuriating as they were, they never failed to prove themselves worthy adversaries. Especially Jasmine. Despite her dainty gilded slippers and childlike temper, she was strong and clever. Perhaps she was even stronger than that urchin she had shacked up with. She would be very amusing to keep around indeed.

"How will I ever get my hands on her…" he pondered. It was unlikely that she'd come willingly, so he'd need to use a glamour to disguise himself. He was certain there were no lack of forms that would gain her immediate trust. Once she fell for his trap, it would take little time to transport her home with him. She would fight at first, he was certain, but with the gauntlet and his endless cruelty, he would force obedience into her. After all, she need only to be able speak and hear to stave off his madness. His master had said as much to a young Mozenrath when he had been particularly insubordinate.

"_Speak out of turn again, boy, and you'll be unable to walk for a week. You don't need your legs for sorcery."_

Destane's punishments had seemed harsh to him during his apprenticeship, but now he saw the value of power and control. Only threaten what you can afford to lose. And enact your punishments with no remorse. His back and legs was littered with shiny scars left by years of whippings and canings for bad behavior.

This plan would be fruitful indeed. He'd have the beautiful fiery princess all to himself, to wear down and mold into a suitable conversation partner and perhaps a fine concubine if he wanted his carnal appetites fed. He imagined he would be breaking her in very soon, her being a beautiful woman and him having been without pleasure in so long. It was rarely a good time to step away from the citadel in pursuit of a courtesan, after all.

It was a perfect scheme. Nothing but that meddling street rat could keep him from his goal. The ceaseless heroics on his part were exceptionally bothersome. With his physical strength and wits alone, Aladdin had made a fool of the sorcerer time and time again. Mozenrath needed a suitable distraction to keep him out of the picture. A deal which the hero would be unable to refuse.

The sorcerer stood shrouded in shadows, waiting for the right moment to act. He spotted her poorly-disguised form treading carefully through the marketplace, shrouded in a modest black cloak which barely obscured her familiar features. Foolish of her to think no one would take notice of how uncalloused and clean her hands were, or how she smelled of fine imported perfumes. If she weren't so ungodly selfless, he might have suspected her of simply trying to curry favor with her people by walking among them. It was impossible to believe she didn't hear the murmurs that followed behind her at every turn. This was going to be too easy. With a devious grin, Mozenrath shapeshifted into the form of a little girl so thin you could count the hours of the day on her ribs, with sunken brown eyes and a gap-toothed grin. Assuming the character, he wildly stumbled directly in the path of Jasmine, got caught on her cloak and promptly fell face first. The child let out a dramatic cry, but one not entirely unauthentic. If Mozenrath's true face was bruised as a result of his scheme, there would be hell to pay for the princess.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry little one. Are you alright?" she asked, helping the child to her feet.

"I-I think so. But I need to go. I need to find a doctor for my mother…" she mumbled, trying to worm her way out of Jasmine's grasp. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman with such tender, unblemished hands. The little street urchin finally broke free and tore down an alleyway, hoping the princess would follow. The trap was set.

"Wait!" she cried, following the child as quickly as her dainty feet could manage. "If you just let me help you, I can find your mother the finest doctor in all of Agrabah."

"You will? How are you gonna do that, lady?" the little girl piped, cornered by Jasmine's towering figure. She smiled down at the child, taking her into her arms.

"Can you keep a secret? I'm the princess. I like to sneak out here to help my people however I can." Finally, the timing was right. Arms wrapped around her waist, he transformed back to his true form. The look on the princess' face as she felt the tiny hands become the powerful hands of a grown man could have frozen the pits of hell. He pulled her closely to him, and smiled.  
>"So lovely to see you again, princess. We're going to have such fun together."<p>

Before she could protest, they were enveloped in his magic and transported to the dungeon of his citadel. He threw her body to the ground, sending her scraping across the uneven stone floor. It would surely leave some painful cuts on her exposed stomach and arms, where brilliant crimson was already starting to rise to the surface. She rose to her feet, holding her arms in front of her in an invitation to fight. Quick to anger, quick to be broken. That was her choice, not his.

"Mozenrath, you coward! How dare you try and trick me like that."

"I didn't try, my dear, I succeeded," he cooed, materializing shackles on her hands and feet. The chains only allowed a foot of space between her and the wall. She thrashed against the restraints, forcing the shackles tighter against her wrists and ankles. She would be purple and blue before the night was up at the rate she was going, and that was before the games had truly begun.

"You won't get away with this. When Aladdin finds out what's happened, you'll be sorry."

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for, princess."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: This is my first time writing in this universe, so I hope you find it suitable! Additionally, please check my AO3 account, K_Maestrale for the latest updates to the story. I will be cross-posting here for posterity, as well as the more well-established Mozenrath fandom here, but I'd love for you to join me over on the archive.<strong>


	2. Undisclosed Desires

Mozenrath's head throbbed from the incessant screams of his prisoner mere moments before. How she had thrashed and writhed in her chains for so long, he couldn't fathom; perhaps she was prone to royal tantrums to get what she wanted from dear daddy Sultan. She would learn her mistake quickly. The shackles would not budge without the sorcerer's saying so, and all she'd managed to do by trying to break their hold was thoroughly chafe and wound her delicate wrists and ankles.

"What are you going to do to Aladdin?" she growled, nearly inhuman in timbre. They say hell hath no fury, but Jasmine's rage was a testament to that. No man, nor any living creature, was worthy of such a violent protective inclination. Hundred of thousands of creatures inhabited the Earth, and yet so much concern over just one. Though the living convinced themselves there was no equality of value, Mozenrath knew the truth of it. Whether dead or alive, all living things were equally worthless to the cosmic plan. He had valued the life of another creature more than others only once, and Destane had quickly put a stop to that.

"_What have I told you, foolish boy? You can't hide anything from take your punishment."_

"_Please, Master. Show some mercy. It's just a baby," he whimpered, cradling the tiny orange kitten in his worn hands._

"_I have been kind until now, boy, but I can be cruel. Don't think I won't kill you both in a Gommorah minute if you think you can disobey me."_

_The young apprentice felt his lip quiver as he offered the kitten to his master._

"_No, boy. You have to do it."_

The memory made him involuntarily twitch. That had been a painful lesson to learn. But he never dared to hide things from Destane after that. He studied long into the night, pushing himself beyond his limits to please his master, knowing full well he would one day surpass him. And when he did he gave Destane both a fitting punishment and an unnecessarily kind reward. Rather than allowing him the gentle embrace of death, he turned the monstrous man into a Mamluk. Destane would never be released from his animated state, but he gained the immortality all power-hungry fools hope for.

"Calm yourself, petulant girl. No harm will come to your precious street rat. What harm may befall you, however, is still entirely in your control. The sooner you learn to behave, the less I'll have to punish you," he drawled.

"When I get my hands on you, you'll be sorry you ever messed with me," she spat.

"Oh dear, it seems the princess doesn't want to listen to her master. Very well, then. If it's an attitude adjustment you want, it's one you'll get," he hissed back at her. With a flick of his fingers the chains went taut, forcing her flat against the wall. Now that she was unable to move, maybe she would bite her tongue. He approached her slowly, like a lioness stalking her prey. He could see her eyes widen in terror as the space between them grew smaller and smaller. Soon their noses were mere inches apart,and she could not maneuver away from him.

"Terror looks very cute on you," he whispered, gently nibbling her earlobe. Her breath hitched and he knew immediately how to make her behave. A virtuous girl like her would quickly be tamed by the expert touch of a wicked sorcerer. Though she was betrothed to the worthless street rat, she was still expected to remain pure until marriage. It seemed like an archaic value to the sorcerer, but he was not of royal blood. Perhaps it was easier to produce an heir if the woman was ignorant to carnal pleasures.

"Does your beloved Aladdin touch you like this?" His hands danced over her exposed midriff, careful not to nudge the fresh wounds. Her body shivered in his palms, reacting in ways he knew her mind did not want.

"Please stop…"she whimpered. His hands slid from her stomach up to her breasts, cupping them through her soft silken shirt. He felt the buds tighten under his hand, begging for more attention. It seemed the princess did not care for lingerie in the desert's heat. Taking his forefinger and thumb, he slowly twisted her nipples. She bit her lip, trying to suppress her cries. He suspected she had never even explored her own body this way, seeing how excited she was already. She could beg for mercy all she pleased, but her body wanted this. She wanted this, he could tell. He would not steal her virtue from her tonight, no, but he would leave her begging for him, logic drowned out by the swollen desire between her legs. He trailed his tongue down her neck and against her collarbone, provoking little squeaks from her pretty mouth. Before the day was through, Jasmine would be his willing servant. It would be refreshing to fall asleep with a warm body tethered to his.

"M-mozenrath please…"

"Please what, princess?" His tongue travelled lower now, gracing the flesh just beneath her sheer top. The skin was so smooth and supple he could almost taste her pulse.

"Don't stop."

There it was. It had been so simple to replace her rage with a raging appetite for things ladies weren't supposed to speak of. She was his now. As quickly as he had filled her with heat and wanting, he pulled away. His seduction of the princess was a far more fitting form of torture than mere abuse would be. But there would be time to bruise her, and times she would beg to be bruised.

"You couldn't have possibly been enjoying that, could you?" He smirked, making her face turn a brilliant red.

"I...don't know," she conceded, eyes glazed with lust. Of course a virgin would be vulnerable to the fresh intoxication that only the prospect of satisfaction could provide.

"Well, dear princess, I'm happy to help you come to a decision on that later. But you must behave. Would that be agreeable?"

She nodded.

"Very good, Jasmine. Now all that's left is to wait. Your precious fiance should be coming for you any time now."

Her eyes narrowed, the passion from mere moments before draining like water from an unstopped tub. It seems her compliance still had a ways to go.

"What are you planning, Mozenrath?"

"Uh-uh-uh! I thought you were going to behave yourself. I've already told you no harm will come to Aladdin. All I intend is to offer him an even bargain. How he reacts is outside of my control."

He wasn't lying. Aladdin could very well not agree to the bargain. And the sorcerer would deal with that problem if it came. It would be bothersome indeed to follow up on the threat he was going to dangle over the street rat's head, especially when it would leave him right back where he had started: alone.


End file.
